He didn't know how to fight, but here went sweet nothings! He had seen his mommy and other wolves fight before and he was almost a year old. The leaves were just turning beautiful shades of crimson and gold, and all the more made the little boy an obvious target. Hopefully nobody would attack him without telling him who he was fighting and making it a fair one. His green little eyes looked all over for a small target to direct his fight at. Maybe there was another youngster wanting to fight too! Just to be sure, he sat down, breathing so deeply he felt like a balloon before letting loose with a miserably small howl. "Awoop!" Annoyed, he huffed and puffed, and huffed, and puffed, then gave his very best howl. "Awooooooooooooooooooooo!!!" Oh yeah, that was much more satisfying. How did it go again? Many large pawprints were pressed into the mud, and some he could barely fit. It was then he realized he was almost all grown up. He moved his legs outward, first too widely that he about snapped his spine trying to get back normal. "That can't be right!" His mask crinkled in a bit of a struggle to stand straight again, his underarms a bit sore from stretching too far. He wanted his enemy to be a kid like him, but he wanted them to be big and strong so he could see how well his observations went. Maybe he'd have beginner's luck and win his first fight! Momma would be so proud! "Okay, okay. Time to get back to getting ready to fight like a man... that can't be right either..." Bah, nothing that came from his lips sounded right. Looked like the record had a chip in it -- no, not a chip, lots of chips. He shook his head rapidly, letting his ears smack against his skull.
"Alright, spread out legs a little bit." His long limbs would spread out a little bit, having outgrown their pudgy figure from when he was a pup. But now he was a man. His toes would spread, claws driving into the dirt for traction. He'd win his first fight! For his momma! For his sister! For his big bros! His large ears would pin back against his skull, skin tightening from the sinew stretching, and to protect them if his opponent wanted to take a snap at them. His eyes would narrow, brows crinkling to keep his eyes away from any dust and scratching at them. Momma wouldn't like his jades to be broken on the first day actually far from home. His small lips would peel back in a snarl, his muzzle contorting into a humpy terrain to keep the skin from tearing as easily too. His chin would tuck close to his chest, and he could almost hear his little pulse thump from how close he was to his juglar, protecting it the best he could with his face. His head lowered too, aligning with his spine, to make him a bit more strong if someone wanted to be brutal and body-slam him. He climbed mountains! Nothing could stop him! Except for a very big and strong puppy. His tail would rise up and straighten, to be a rudder if he needed to quickly move in succesion with other moves. His hackles would raise, tightening all the skin there too to keep it from scarring and to tighten the skin on the back of his neck too, he didn't want any big or fat scars if someone decided to be a meanie. Not that scars weren't awesome like momma's. His tummy would tuck, letting his skin grow tight around his little sensitive spot. That belly was a sweet spot, alright. His legs would loosen, poised and ready to absorb any shock from his spar buddy. Confidence reaked from him in waves, as he would look his opponent in the eye wih jaded irises, voice chiming. "Your move!"
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